End of a Beginning
by talking-eye
Summary: Follows 3.09. BurkeCristina. Can she get through the closed door? Sad at the beginning but lighter as it goes. Ch. 16 added. It's long and super detailed, one of my favorite stories to date and won't be updated anymore. Read Beginning of An End instead
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Started out rather sad and heavy, following 3.09, containing 3.10, might grow to include 3.11 and further…

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

_Please. No, please don't. This can't happen again, not now._

Cristina wasn't planning to stand in front of their bedroom door, _his_, for the rest of the night; but it didn't help that when her muscles woke up from a state of shock, the only movement began around her eyes, then her throat, then her chest, then the entire body—except the legs.

_Stop crying. Nobody, no drug was going to sooth her. _

She must stop sobbing and shaking violently before Burke kicked her out of the apartment. It's been a bad enough day for him—brought up to the sky by the Chief and brought down by her in a blink of an eye. There's no point in annoying him further with her uncontrollable crying.

_That's why she never cried. Burke was wrong. It wasn't emotional shortcoming. It's emotional explosion she always feared._

She couldn't stop when she lost her baby, until Burke wrapped his arms around her and cooed her to sleep.

She couldn't stop on the day Burke was shot, until her brain was so deprived of oxygen from all the crying that she fainted in the on-call room.

She couldn't stop when she told Burke "don't ever die" until he looked deeply into her and reassured her with a kiss.

_Now? There's no drug, no Burke. Nothing._

Covering her nose and mouth and biting the inside of her cheeks, Cristina muffled the noise, but not the shivering. At one point, she wanted to bang her head against the wall. She read from a magazine that head banging for an hour could use up to 150 calories. Maybe if she banged hard enough, she would exhaust herself and fall asleep.

Cristina let out a quiet laugh amidst her tears. _That was ridiculous. She was not going to stain his wall like that. Hadn't she created enough mess for him, for both of them?_

Cristina dragged herself behind the kitchen counter. She basically crawled. She couldn't stay on the couch. He would see her and kick her out of the house. She's dirty. There's blood in her hair. There's guilt in her heart.

_She's not worth it. She would never be good enough for anything._One day she would go and thank her mother for the accurate prediction.

The kitchen floor was icy-cold and spotlessly clean. Too clean. It felt good to rest her head on it.

Tonight was not the night to think with logic. Even if she didn't understand why he was mad or why she was crying, she was too tired to think. The only thing that mattered was the secret.

_Their secret. Who said what and when and why were not important anymore._ They were both hurt. Stabbed. Injured.

When the vessel ruptured in front of her, that was it. She knew she had to turn herself in. It was nothing noble. She just felt compelled to.

_Would it have been better if she waited till he finished?_ Maybe.

She wasn't mad at him when he told her to go to the other side. She wasn't mad when he rejected her help. She was confused but she was too scared to disobey.

_Being a supportive girlfriend meant obeying the man she loved, doing whatever that pleased him. Right?_

Then the vessel burst. She had to stop herself. She was trying to make up excuses for him, for her, for them when she ran down the hallway covered in blood. Burke probably would never believe that she was running to the Chief to defend him. She was planning to tell the Chief it was her fault because she set everything up.

_Really. She really wasn't trying to break him._ It just happened. 

Richard caught her off-guard. A little prompting here and there and all hell broke loose. She was the worst witness of the crime, because she was so convinced that there was nothing else she could do. She begged, she pleaded, she put it upon herself. All she got was a tormented stare from the Chief. She broke the Chief as well. His trust.

_Their trust._ She could have trusted Burke when he said everything would be fine. She always did. Why didn't she just listen this time? He was anxious and he flexed his hand, but there was no trace of tremor. He had been saying lives with her on his side but without her help. He was fine. Why couldn't she trust her?

_He was Preston Burke, an honorable man. He was only trying to save the woman's life before telling the Chief._ What was she doing? Now, it wasn't only the blood on her. She stained his name, his reputation. Although he should have told the Chief before all these happened, it wasn't entirely his fault that he hadn't. The circumstances delayed him; Cristina dissuaded him. 

_Whatever her motives were, she was the culprit. Not just an accomplice, but the culprit._ Meredith said she did the right thing. Where there was a crime, nothing could be right, could it?

It pained her when the Chief said he couldn't think of a way to punish her yet. He could have whipped her the way her step-father did. She might feel better afterwards. It pained her when Burke finally entered the office, still in his surgical scrubs. If she knew he would talk to the Chief, would she have waited? It pained her even more when Dr. Hahn came to tell her how lucky it was to study under Burke. Wasn't that ironic? It was a sincere compliment but it only pushed Cristina down another flight of stairs.

_There was nowhere to go now. It's too late. This was a point of no return._

Her heart was pounding against the icy ground. No, she deserved no ground to rest on. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Ch.2**  
_Don't touch her. Don't look at her. Don't talk to her. Don't forgive her._ That was the woman who betrayed him. Why should he continue making allowances for her?

It's been a long day. The mental and physical exhaustion should have taken over him, yet he couldn't sleep. He had done everything to get rid of her smell: changing the sheets, throwing her pillow into the closet, closing the door; yet the spirit of Cristina lingered in the air.

_He knew she was still in the house, but he tried not to think about it._ He wondered why he didn't sweep her out when she tried to walk into the bedroom, as if nothing had happened. When he saw her at the door, he was stunned. He was expecting her, in fact, he would be annoyed if she didn't come home—He was going to grill her with questions, yell at her, or learn to hate her.

Instead, he just stood there and thought, _What made her think she could come home?_ At least she was smart enough not to utter anything to him. He was too tired to talk. His facial muscles had shut down hours earlier when he saw her in the Chief's office. The only thing he wanted was to sleep. He needed it, badly.

When he walked out to get himself a glass of water, he saw her. Preston Burke was not a man of a wide range of emotions—he was intense, but he hated ambiguity. In the past, it was always black and white. He had tolerated the uncertainties entangled with Cristina for too long. Tonight he could not take it anymore. Somebody HAD to take the responsibility.

_He knew he was part of it. The team. The dark and dirty._ But he couldn't admit it. He was the victim, not the culprit, because he wanted to confess. He, the honorable man, was going to tell the Chief. Who did Cristina think she was to have stopped him multiple times and then turned him in? Nobody had to tell him what was said in the Chief's office before him—he was certain she was mad at him, that's why she let it all out.

_Cristina was unforgivable._ She had taken away a dream he had been working towards since he started working at Seattle Grace. Richard didn't mention disciplinary actions but he knew it would take a million years to rebuild the reputation he gained over the years.

The bitterness in his heart was so intense that it was choking him. Never had he felt as clueless as he now was. He wanted to share it with someone. He needed to vent, but to whom? Only a week ago, Preston Burke was the respected surgeon in Seattle Grace who had guy friends. He was the one who taught Derek Shepard the importance of friendship. 

_But who was there to stand by him now? Nobody._ Did he really have friends? Were they his friends? If so, why wasn't there any phone number he could call? Why wasn't there anyone who could listen to him, or just give him a pat on the shoulder?

_Maybe there was someone. Maybe he never needed anyone. Maybe Cristina could have been the one._ When Eugene Foote died, she was lying there quietly with him. When he thought his surgical career was over because he couldn't hold the valve steady anymore, she stepped up and reassured him.

But Cristina couldn't be _the one_ anymore. He couldn't trust that she wouldn't hurt him again, even if it meant there was nothing he could turn to. If he didn't need anyone in the past, why did he need someone now? The only thing he needed was to talk himself out of it.

When he saw her curling on his spotless kitchen ground, the thought of dragging her up and throwing her out of the door crossed his mind. Instead, Burke only stared at the creature on the floor. Violence was not in his blood. His heart was already broken. Why should he risk breaking his bones hitting her? His hands were too valuable to be damaged.

_His hands was who he was._ Automatically he clenched his fist until the nails were hurting the inside of his palm. He still had trouble understanding why he said that out loud in the morgue. The realization shocked him. Even tonight. How could a person's life depend on nothing but his skills? That terrified him, because there was no skill and nobody left.

His glass was clean, but he let the water run over it non-stop. The thoughts couldn't stop. The dirt in his name would not be washed away. The heartache and the shock would follow him wherever he went. He was not going to talk to her. There was nothing left to say.

_He had changed. They both had changed._ It infuriated him that things turned out that way, although he couldn't tell who he was really mad at. Of course, Cristina was the one he should be mad at, but he couldn't stop looking at her. It was the last thing in the world he was still capable of doing. It was the last time he would do it.

Burke dried the glass and locked his bedroom door.

_If she caught a cold, it's not his fault._ Strangely, the thought made him shiver in bed. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Ch.3**  
The room was dark, as was her heart and the circles etched under her sore eyes. It took Cristina a while to remember where she was. The last time she was awake she was on the kitchen floor. She must have been sleep walking, or why would she be on the couch?

The windows were closed, but the living room wasn't heating up yet. It was early in the morning, perhaps it was still the previous night. Either way, Cristina curled her body in the couch and tried to remember what happened.

_If one couldn't remember what happened, would that mean it was only a bad dream?_ Cristina wished it was only a nightmare, but it wouldn't make sense for her to be in work clothes sleeping on the couch if it wasn't real. She tried to close her eyes again, hoping this was yet another part of her bad dream marathon.

_It didn't help. Who was she trying to fool?_

Did she sleep? Why did her head hurt so badly and her eyes feel so raw? Propping herself up, she took one cushion into her embrace. Cristina didn't like to be hugged, but this morning she badly needed one, even if that would mean hugging a bag of cotton.

Staring in the direction of the bedroom door, Cristina rested her head on the cushion and let the silence fill her heart. The sound of silence was harder to bear than the bitter howls. At least, when she was yelled at by Burke, she still saw his presence, she still stood a chance to do something. Sitting alone in the dark, she gasped at the idea that everything was gone.

_She was wrong, but so was he. He was hurt, so was she._ Regret was still occupying her heart, but a night of disturbed sleep was slowly allowing logic and irritation to take over.

Regret aside, the biggest punishment was the silence. All-encompassing, almost omnipotent, yet the completeness of silence only brought out the incompleteness of certainty about their future. It was neither a yes nor a no, but a freaking _I don't know_.

Standing up, Cristina pushed her hair to the back and walked towards the kitchen counter. The slowly emerging frustration was going to save her, she hoped. It might push the guilt and hurt away. _She needed the bitterness to help her get through the day._ Nobody else was going to help her. Her hands automatically drew her to the coffee maker. She let every drop in her cup go down her throat at the speed of a rocket and walked out of the apartment—life went on.

Burke waited until the sound of the water stopped and the door clicked. Cristina had finally left. It was a cold and lonely night. Many times, he shifted in his bed, feeling the insurmountable amount of pressure pressing him down his side of the mattress.

_They, well, he, needed a new mattress._

Burke wished he could stop thinking in plural term. If there was nobody else on the other side to maintain the balance, he needed a new mattress, even if he wasn't ready. He used to find the bed too small sleeping alone, but this morning, it seemed so big that he was sinking into it, eaten up by it, and losing himself in a sea of confusion.

It wasn't anger that was still circulating in his bloodstream. It was something more ambiguous. At some point, it almost felt like he was having a hemorrhage, one that was making everything hazy and lucid at the same time.

The alarm would not go off in another 3 hours—the alarm that he bought for Cristina, because he always woke up naturally without the need of that. Watching the seconds hand move methodically around the clock face, he tried hard to trace back to the time when his life began to lose that steadiness.

_He was glad she was gone. At least it meant she was there last night. She was safe._

It wasn't an easy task to constantly remind himself how mad he was supposed to be. He should be mad at Cristina, but the best he could do was to ignore her, and even that was not easy. When he carried her to the couch and threw a blanket on top of her last night, he was scared he would wake her. Cristina should not know that he still cared about her.

Swtiching between thoughts, Burke felt like a young boy once more--one who got a tummy ache after eating too much of his favorite chocolate ice-cream.

_But he could not be eternally mad at the ice-cream nor stay away from it, could he?_ It was silly thoughts like this that put a bittersweet smile on his face. How he wished he could smile because of something that wasn't self-generated.

Stepping into the kitchen, Burke was amazed at how quickly God was answering his prayer. He couldn't help but squint his eyes and allowed his lips to curl up for a brief second when he saw a pot of coffee standing alongside a bottle of creamer. Somebody had made him coffee, washed his mug, and left 2 cubes of sugar in it. It wasn't in his head. It was something real. _Ironic, but real._

As the silver spoon danced in his coffee, Burke's mind began to stir. _Was it a mere act of domestic routine, or was it a sign that things would be fine?_

Burke knew the esophagus was not connected to the heart, but the left upper portion of his chest felt tender as the coffee rushed in. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Ch.4**  
The water pipes were panting in synchrony with her heart as Cristina leaned on Webber's bookcase, the tip of her toes brushing back and forth against the carpet.

Burke was sitting only two feet across her, a distance close enough for him to catch her if she fell, although she knew it would not happen. Everyone was stiff as a stone in the Chief's office. Nobody would move a step even if she collapsed. Besides, Cristina Yang was there to face the verdict of _Yang vs. The Rest of the World_; she was not there expecting the slightest form of sympathy.

_What makes you think you deserve to stand here beside me without hiding your face in shame?_—Among all the nasty things Bailey could have said, this was the only one that was not uttered out loud but deeply felt by Cristina as the two stood side by side.

More words were spoken and the word _justice_ hit her repeatedly. Had her creativity been a little more active like her best friend Meredith's, images of her wearing an orange jumpsuit, clutching at the iron bars of her prison cell would have conjured up in Cristina's head.

_Was she the only one who should be punished? Didn't those people in front of her who were older, stronger and more experienced have a role to play as well? _She never questioned her fate of being reprimanded, but she couldn't quite decide if what she did to the patients or her boyfriend was more unforgivable.

The dearth of management skills Webber possessed did not bring the meeting to a satisfying conclusion, although he managed to keep everyone quiet long enough for Cristina to escape.

Leaving the room feeling as if she had been trapped in a bathroom filled with too much hot steam, Cristina did not find much luck in the locker room either. She grew up in a hostile social environment and her sharp tongue was her most powerful self-defense. Yet, as she threw her best possible sarcasm at George O'Malley when he stared at her as if she had murdered his dad, Cristina was shaking inside—The aggressive flame of anger in George's eyes reminded her of Burke's stare.

It was the emptiest form of fury that kept haunting her like a clear sky before the storm. Cristina was anticipating an outburst, but Burke wasn't even looking at her anymore.

In the men's room, what Burke saw was the reflection of a stranger. He could not believe the man in the mirror was Preston Burke. It wasn't just because he took off his glasses as he splashed water over his face, but also the fact that the man standing in front of him was laden with more guilt than his facial muscles could hold.

Twelve hours ago, his blood boiled because of the lack of guilt in Cristina's attitude. At this particular moment in time, he was consumed by guilt because of Cristina.

In a crime, there had to be a perpetrator and a victim. In Preston Burke's dictionary, the antonym to right was wrong. _But was there really only one truth? One wrongdoer? One victim? Did it really matter to have someone take the blame and punished if no one was happy in the end?_

They had not spoken to each other for nearly a day. Technically, they still lived under the same roof the night before; they shared the same pot of coffee Cristina made; they just spent the best hours of the morning in the same room at Seattle Grace, hearing the same insult from Bailey and the lame resolution proposed by the Chief. If fate allowed, they might even run into each other multiple times at work. 

Yet, they were not talking.

Burke was still angry with the way Cristina handled their secret, but it bugged him that the last word he ditched at her was to leave his OR.

Stories were told daily around the world about how the wife never got a chance to tell her husband how much she loved him before he suddenly died in a terrorist attack, or how the son never got to apologize to the father for being distant and heartless when the old man failed to wake up from his sleep.

_After all the sweetness and sorrow they had faced together, after all the hard work he put into the relationship, was he ready to allow that to be their final conversation if the world was to end for either of them on this very day?_

Burke let the fingers of his left hand grip his throat before they fell on the edge of the sink.

Silence was a way to escape from his pain, but it gave him no consolation to remain quiet.

Putting his glasses back on, Burke made an effort to craft out a confident smirk. It wasn't too convincing, but probably adequate to fend off his old enemy. _Erica Hahn came to Seattle Grace without knowing about the scandal and she'd better leave without knowing it either._

Burke hooked his fingers tightly together as he approached Mr. O'Malley's room. Cristina's familiar figure pushed through the corner of his eyes, but Burke's eyes hardly blinked.

_Nobody had to know how he was feeling._ Work was serious business. Whatever issues he was having with Cristina, he had to put them aside for now. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Ch.5**

There were times in life when the good and the evil appeared to have swapped positions—Bambi used to a docile pet, Bailey the fierce mother hawk; now it was the robotic and spiteful Dr. Hahn whom Cristina felt the most support from.

Judgments. Being judgmental. It was hard to draw a line between the good and evil. Mr. O'Malley's kin did not lose any respect for Cristina, despite the scandal she had created. Yet, they didn't welcome their most loving and protective boy, because he was getting on everyone's nerves. 

Feelings of frustration and hope met and stirred in Mr. O'Malley's room as the youngest son was officially kicked out of the game by the only remaining objective judge at the hospital. 

_More ought to be relayed to the O'Malley's._ Cristina didn't have a father and the old man in front of her was different from his sons. He was no-nonsense. Mr. O'Malley Sr. deserved more than a brief summary of his medical condition, but Cristina knew Hahn would want everything to be clean and clear cut. Nothing more, nothing less.

Cristina would have thought the same in the past, but the realization that she wasn't a robot had changed her.

Between looking back and looking ahead, Cristina followed Hahn to the nurse station, only to have life deal her the uncomfortable encounter with Burke again. Second time in the day, and it was only 11am.

Cristina used to have a blank face, a million masks made of glass. But she wasn't a professional actor. Her face was clearly glowing and the muscles around her lips jerked and twisted into a hesitant smile when Burke complimented her.

_Did he mean it as a compliment?_ Cristina wasn't stupid, but everyone had a conditioned reflex to positive words.

_Very professional._ He was probably scoffing at her. Was it that hard for Hahn to notice something was wrong?

_Very professional._ That was the impression he gave her. Perhaps, Burke was only trying to spare her some more explicit forms of put down. Perhaps, he really was proud of her.

Trying in vain to see past his neatly practiced expression, Cristina stood between Burke and Hahn a timid prey, caught between two enemies whose desire to compete had nearly overridden the presence of the prey.

_How she wished she could be taking sides._ Before yesterday, she would no doubt be on Burke's side, not because Hahn was a representation of wickedness, but merely since Burke was a teammate, the only teammate.

Then, he broke it off with words and Cristina with action. It didn't matter which one was louder.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

He could have chosen to walk away, but as the figures of Hahn and Cristina drew closer, Burke chose to put himself to test. It would take a long time to prove his worth as a skilled and honest surgeon to the Chief and those who knew the truth, but first he had to prove to himself he was capable of separating the private from the public.

He was only an inch apart from Cristina, but he averted his gaze so that it was a conversation between him and Hahn, with Cristina being a translucent wall.

Finally, he said she was very professional. It came out so naturally that a stranger would have thought it was a compliment.

_It was a compliment when it slipped out of his tongue._ He was trying to provide the most natural reaction to Hahn's encouraging words about Cristina, even though the awkwardness in his tone also betrayed his sense of frustration towards her.

_If she really was professional, she shouldn't have made that absurd suggestion to conceal the tremor._ When he broke off with her before her miscarriage, Burke was not to blame. He meant no harm. This time, Cristina knew perfectly what breaking off would entail, yet she did it anyway. 

_What made Preston Burke a man who deserved disloyalty from his mate?_

Juggling between his crumbling sense of pride and the silent yearning to reunite with the curly hair intern, Burke's mind came to a halt when he saw the glow in her eyes.

_He made her proud as his teacher. But who gave her the right to be proud of herself when pride was ripped out of him?_

They were three people engaging in a conversation, but they were not talking. 

Burke used words, but none was towards Cristina. Instead of taking another step or uttering another syllable, Cristina put her million words into that one look in her eyes.

There was too much going on at the hospital stage. Everyone had a part to play. 

Not Burke. Slowly, he descended into the supply room. Alone. Like a character in Shakespeare's play, waiting for his soliloquy. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Ch.6**  
_Everyone's life at Seattle Grace was like a stage play. Cristina's currently a tragedy._ Stirring the food on her lap monotonously, Cristina lost count of the number of coffee she's had that morning.

She wasn't an avid TV viewer, but she knew people would laugh if she told them doctors really did gather in unconscious dying old man's rooms to ponder on the meaning of life.

A day could only be as long as 24 hours, but things at this hospital always seemed to stretch through eternity. _Wouldn't God or whoever was watching over them be annoyed by the slow passage of time?_

The ventilator was breathing steadily in the background. Each time it beeped, the fork in Cristina's hand jumped. _Who said she wasn't a sensitive girl?_

It was particularly because she was more sensitive than most that she had to hide it. _What good would it bring to be weak and vulnerable all the time?_

If she had to react to every single thing with the same intensity as her startle reflex, wouldn't she have passed out long ago when she recognized the sweat of disgust soaking her fellow interns' faces?

Meredith was acting like a martyr, but Cristina didn't want to see her good-natured friend victimized because of her. _She alone was the trouble maker. Nobody had to be brought down with her. Especially not Meredith._

She didn't expect anyone except Meredith to see the appreciation filling her eyes while her body movements suggested nothing more than annoyance over her best friend's protectiveness. _Coldness was what everyone in the room expected. Why bother to reveal anything else to those who were blind?_

One's role changed on stage as a story evolved. On the first day of their internship, no one would have imagined seeing Cristina sticking by her fellow interns when they failed an exam, got cheated, lost somebody, or committed murder. After covering up for one another after Denny Duquette died, nobody would have thought that those 5 would ever grow apart.

_How could a person be through so much in less than a year? Her life had turned into a soap opera with a very bad script._

When Cristina saw the bin outside the patient's room, her arm flanged out without reserve. Her tray of food hit the bottom with a thud. She wasn't hungry anymore. The emptiness had eaten her up, inside out.  
-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

The clock on the wall was ticking, so was his watch. The mouse was bouncing back and forth in his hand, so was his mind. The desynchronized movements in the room were quickly thickening the air, until Burke was nothing more than a dim spot of light struggling to glow and re-conquer the world.

Burke shut the browser and unplugged his laptop.

The anger of the Chief infiltrated every corner of the room. From the day he started his fellowship till he was almost nominated the next Chief of Surgery, Burke had never heard that much desperation in Richard Webber's voice. Save that time when he half begged and half forced Burke to perform a biopsy on Ellis Grey.

_Women. A grown man, the esteemed head of the surgical program, losing it completely when it came to women he loved._

No matter how hard he tried to hold his face still, Burke couldn't conceal his shock hearing Richard's vulnerable confession of love towards his wife.

_Wasn't it ironic that men as strong and composed as they were would ever trip and fall because of women?_

One thing led to another. Nothing happened in isolation. Burke never thought his action would have such a profound impact on the Chief's life. Not forgetting the part Cristina played in the whole scheme, Burke couldn't contain the eruption of self-guilt in his body. It was so powerful that he could feel his glasses shaking above his nose.

_Especially because he was a grown man, a strong person, he was supposed to take charge._ How could he lay all the blame on a woman who was half his size and delicate like a china doll?

Every muscle on Burke's body twitched as the Chief's voice echoed in his head—if he didn't get it fixed, he would be letting everyone down, he would be letting himself down.

Cristina made a terrible mistake. But he was the only person in the world who could bring himself down by giving up. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Ch.7**  
Water ran over the back of her hands like a silver rod, breaking into tiny droplets that landed on the stainless steel sink with a gentle clang. 

Cristina was too scared to look up. That was her cue to everyone. When she let her eyes off the bottom of the sink, it would be time to pick up the scalpel and shine.

_Although, the fleeting moments of self-worth could never compensate for what she had recently lost. _

Proving herself to be a competent surgeon was not going to pose any challenge to her, not even when the patient was someone she knew, someone who had rested all his trust in her the night before by a firm handshake.

Redeeming herself as a person who truly deserved to be loved and trusted was, however, a much taller order. It was so much more than skill alone. How she wished there could be someone to guide her on her way to become a good surgeon, who also would be a good person.

Icy as she seemed, Erika Hahn had a thing for music. With songs playing in the air, the hands of two strong-willed women were shifting positions like a pair of skilled dancers.

Dancers had to transmit their emotions to the audience through their entire being, their limps, their lips, their eyes. But it was a forbidden rule to look at the audience purely for recognition and acknowledgment. Regardless of her years of demanding training as a ballerina, Cristina's body betrayed her when she looked up, searching for her intended audience.

_It was the right moment._ Burke was looking at her like a father watching his daughter perform on stage for the first time. The warmth shot through the glass and made her heart leap.

For a split second, she thought everything would be fine, although her sense as a dancer warned her that the audience was probably captivated by a dream, not the person behind.

Her heart leaped again when Hahn uttered those words. _Focused. Intense. Cold._ Never had the thought of being successful and single nauseated her as much as it now did.

_If losing everyone was the price she needed to pay, would she still want to lose herself and be great?_

Her eyes made another quick trip to where Burke was standing, but it wasn't long enough for her to get an answer.  
-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

To be a great person, one could not only carry himself. He had to put people on his shoulder.

Responsibility. Burke was throwing that rock entirely on Cristina's back, without considering that it was too big even for a man like him to hold it alone.

Now, he had to learn to be responsible, as a friend, a mentor, and then a man again. 

George and Burke were in the scrub room. Observing, facing opposite directions. As he described every detail on the other side of the glass, a sense of accomplishment reoccupied his heart.

_He was proud of his student. His best student yet._ That was not to be confused with a lack of residual frustration in his blood. But it was impossible for him not to smile.

George was still holding a grudge when he saw Cristina operate on his father. _How about Burke? Was he as stubborn as George? What standard did he want Cristina to meet? _

The bar was high when it started, and the longer they were together, the higher it climbed. _But as overachieving as Cristina was, wouldn't there be a point when she would break?_

His Mama called Cristina selfish. Burke overheard it once.

_Wasn't he selfish as well, always expecting more from her?_ She didn't take over his life because she wanted to rule the world. She did it because he was too selfish to care about his personal well-being and she had to intervene.

As the two women busied themselves with Mr. O'Malley's heart, the two men stood side by side, keeping their territory.

When he was sure it was a success, Burke proceeded to the door. The glory belonged to the two behind the glass. He should not take it away.

Men didn't let forgiveness roll around their tongues, but the _thank you_ from George O'Malley said it all.

_If Burke could be forgiven, how about Cristina? His Cristina? Was it his face that he wanted to save or their relationship?_


	8. Chapter 8

**Ch.8**

"Preston must be proud of you."

Five words. One compliment. With that alone, Erika Hahn had pulled the trigger as effortlessly as she nipped off her scrub cap with two fingers.

There was no bullet, but Cristina could feel her feet shaking, her entire being shattering into pieces.

Never in life had a compliment been so poorly received by the straight-A student; the prize-winner; the best intern. The ability to force an innocent smile she displayed earlier during the day had been wiped out.

Something was uncomfortably wrong in Hahn's statement. _Could Burke be proud of her when he didn't seem to want her anymore?_

Cristina felt her hands moving up and down the back of her scrub pants, tracing disfigured patterns.

"Cold isn't bad. Nor is warmth. I can't handle both, so I picked one. You don't have to do the same," the voice of Hahn rose and fell steadily against the white hospital wall. "I was wrong, Cristina. We're different."

Confusion spread across Cristina's face. 

"We're both focused and intense, but Preston Burke never looked at me that way," Erika broke her image as an ice statue with a supportive, yet slightly self-conscious smile before walking away.

_Hahn knew._ Cristina realized how one's eyes were the least loyal to their master. Not only could Erika Hahn cut through the heart, but also run through people's mind.

Dragging herself back to the locker room, Cristina was sick and weary. Exhaustion was invading every cell within her. She was feeling so drained that the world was but a whirlpool of overlapping images and jumbled words.

Leaning her head on Meredith's shoulder, Cristina was overcome by a mixed bag of feelings.

All day long she had been fighting the idea that she was worth the love from anyone. At the end of the day, Meredith stood up for her and sat down with her. _What a sin not to feel grateful and happy about it!_

But it was by far life's best trick on her—satiating her new found need to connect to other human souls, raising her hope to ask for more, yet keeping the person she ached for completely out of reach.  
-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

There's always someone we hated in our lives, but most wouldn't stay enemies forever. One might be shoved off the playground by his playmate today, but when he fell and she offered a hand, would it hurt more to take it or turn away?

_Sheppard was not an enemy. At some point in the recent past, they were friends._ Because they were friends, Burke was expecting more from him than anyone. Because they were friends, Sheppard was not ready to take the rejection from Preston Burke again.

When one of them finally opened his mouth, the other was too shocked to move. It was a bruised friendship, but one laden with a flimsy layer of hope.

George had already forgiven him, it was now time for Burke to shake off his bitter self.

Men needn't talk. Burke handed his chart to Sheppard, and both men nodded.

_They were going to fix it. They could fix it._ Determination was burning in Burke. Nobody could stop him. Not even Cristina.

_There was no word, no expression, only a face full of nothing._ Cristina didn't trust that Burke would forgive her. Burke didn't trust that Cristina would walk down the path with him. The couple were at an impasse, blocking each other's way on the catwalk.

Like weights on two ends of a balance, one eventually lowered herself to bring the other up.

As she starred at Burke with a mixture of pain and awe, Cristina lost sight of the border between distance and closeness. Without any second thoughts, she stepped out of Meredith's protective shield and plunged into someone else's life.

Cristina broke the equilibrium in the elevator, which became too small to carry three people. Her presence both suffocated and relieved.

Burke focused his energy on guarding his territory, but when the tip of the woman's hand fell on him, it felt like a gentle knock at the door to his heart.

_She might have lost the key, but he reckoned he couldn't keep it shut forever._

His hand sprang up in the air, just an inch above her messy curls. But when the elevator door opened, he jerked it back.

_Could they really put an end to it? Leave the grudge behind?_ Burke wasn't sure.

As if knowing his mind, Cristina inhaled deeply and took a step to the side. A step to end the beginning of misery.

She no longer walked in front of him, nor would she walk behind him again.

She was going to be walking with him. By his side.

THE END (For Now)


	9. Chapter 9

**Ch. 9**  
_How many more door did she need to get through before Burke would talk to her again?_ Just when Cristina thought everything would be fine after their 20 seconds of serenity from the elevator to Sheppard's room, Burke took it back.

"Sheppard, can we talk about it alone?"

Blood drained off Cristina's face as the door was closed in front of her again. It was like being lifted up in the air by colorful balloons, only to land without a safety net on the colorless ground.

Instead of pacing back and forth, Cristina curled down beside the door, wrapping her arms around her knees. Her energy level was too low for her to walk or think straight.

_She's sticking. What else did he want?_ What bothered her the most was his inconsistency. He had become as fickle as the weather. One minute he was starring at her affectionately at the OR, the next minute he was all frozen and stiff like an icicle again.

_Was she expecting too much from the man? The one who used to be so generous in giving his unwavering love to her, who didn't punish her for losing the baby but gave her the most assuring embrace without reservation?_

Cristina was puzzled. She was the smartest. Nothing should ever puzzle her. _If he didn't want her back, why would he allow her to step into the elevator with him? Didn't that mean he had forgiven her, whatever it was that she deserved forgiveness for?_

The hospital was quiet. It disturbed her to hear a pair of footsteps that disrupted the tranquility. Nurse Olivia was giggling her way down the corridor with the new lab technician.

_Why did other people in love have to be so happy and simple?_ Cristina decided that she officially hated seeing any couples on the hospital premise.

Aimlessly shuffling through her bag, Cristina's fingers touched the hard edge of her wallet. Slowly, she pulled out a tiny picture she cut out from the SGH bulletin. _Where had this man of virtue gone?_

If he was not going to talk, neither would she. _It was simply unfair._  
-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Preston, if you haven't forgiven her, you should let her know," the neurosurgeon stored his files away.

"We're not back on first name terms yet, Sheppard."

Their conversation about the next surgery was terse. Burke gave his leap of faith on the man sitting across him by giving him a pat on the shoulder. But everyone at the hospital knew it was impossible to trust Derek Sheppard as the relationship guru.

Nobody was in the position to question Burke's attitude towards Cristina. _Nobody should question him._

Burke fixated his gaze on the door knob. The hand holding it tightly suddenly let loose as he slid back to wait for Derek to open it.

_He almost wished that Cristina wasn't waiting outside, although he knew he would be annoyed if she really took off._

Seeing her falling asleep, the tiredness shadowing over her bothered him a little, but Burke could not bring himself to call out her name.

_She was sticking. She didn't disappoint him this time. But the past could not be erased._

It embarrassed him that Derek had to wake her up on his behalf, yet Burke could not do more than grabbing her arm and taking her home.

The ride home was spent in ultimate silence. Burke never liked the rain, but it soothed him to hear it fall on the car, proving that his world had not become soundless.

There were times when he thought Cristina was going to say something, but she always shut her eyes or turned her head when he shot a glance at her from the driver's seat.

_Why did she have to be so stubborn? If she wasn't ready to apologize, why did she have to follow him to Derek's office with that pitiful look on her face? Didn't that mean she finally understood she had done something wrong and was now going to mend it?_

Burke placed his hands on the steering wheel and turned to look at Cristina again.

_It was still the woman he loved. But that wasn't good enough._ By taking her home, he was already making concessions. She had to play her part.

Turning off the engine, he stepped out of the car alone.

If she was not going to talk, neither would he. _They had to be fair._


	10. Chapter 10

**Ch.10**  
Life was, in essence, a routine. One woke up, got dressed, went to work, came home, and slept. Sometimes, it could be completed in total silence, like watching a TV show mute.

If talking too much would give her a sore throat, Cristina was beginning fear that talking too little would put her vocal cord to sleep.

Through the steam engulfing the entrance of the bathroom, Cristina realized that Burke was already in bed. Instead of paying any attention to her, he stayed focused on the book he was reading.

As she dried her hair with a towel, a bright red mark on the calendar caught her attention.

_Did Burke really think there was no better way to inform her of the date of the surgery than that?_

Without saying a word, Cristina crept out to the living room and picked up the phone.

It wasn't deliberate, but her voice was particularly loud and clear in the quiet apartment.

"Hi, this is Cristina Yang. I would like to take a day off on Wednesday… Yes, thank you."

Tossing the phone on the couch, Cristina held her breath as she sat down, her back facing the bedroom. Part of her wished Burke would come out and talk to her, but a bigger part of her was regretting her action as she counted to 10— Burke did not do anything to acknowledge her effort. To make it worse, he turned off the bedroom light.

Lying down on the couch, with two cushions in her arms, Cristina shifted her attention to the ceiling. 

_Exactly a day had passed since he shut her out of the bedroom, and there she was, sleeping on the couch again._

Nothing seemed to have changed. The pillow and the blanket she used the night before were neatly folded and placed on the coffee table. She was still feeling empty and at a loss.

The only difference was that this time she chose the couch. Nobody threw her out--The door was open, but she was not going to go in.

Stretching her neck to take a peep into the inside of the bedroom, Cristina sighed. _How long would this war of silence last?_

The couch wasn't at all uncomfortable, or else George wouldn't have spent a week and a half at their place. But a couch that was half the size of their bed was too big for Cristina when she was on her own.

As the blanket got dragged closer to her chin, Cristina finally forced her eyes to close. There was nothing more to do. After the sleep, it would be another day. The whole routine of life still had to repeat itself.

_There's still a game waiting for her._  
-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

The predictability of her behavior fascinated him. From the minute Burke opened the door to their apartment until Cristina finally fell asleep, every step was enacted the way she would normally behave.

_Wasn't she getting a bit too comfortable with the situation?_ Watching her walk out of the bedroom, sitting down on the other side of the bed, rubbing her hair with the towel, it was as if nothing had happened between them.

He couldn't remember what he was reading, as he secretly listened to every sound Cristina made. He was hoping to be surprised, but he didn't expect her to suddenly jump off the bed and walk away.

_Why couldn't she say something after she saw what he wrote on the calendar?_

Burke put down his book and rested his head on his left hand. It was like fishing; after one had given something, there was nothing more to do but wait.

The phone conversation startled him. He was glad Cristina wasn't in the room, or else she would see the cocky smile that covered every corner of his face.

_Why hadn't he thought of that? Of course Cristina wasn't going to do nothing._ The calmness in her tone amused him. Had it not been the obstinacy still residing in him, Burke might have broken the silence.

Waiting to see if she would come back to the room after the call, Burke felt that every piece of his muscles tightened. Every inch of it yearned to feel the gentle touch of the woman in the living room again.

The bedroom was so quiet that Burke could hear his own heartbeat, from leaping quickly because of his overly optimistic anticipation of reconciliation, to a heavy pattern of dejection once more. _If she could make the call, why couldn't she walk back in and talk to him?_

After the seconds hand had travelled around the clock for one more time, Burke turned the switch of the lamp.

Listening to the ticking of the clock, Burke recalled the sleepless night he just had.

_It was the same bed he had been sleeping in for years, but he felt like he was in a hotel room, sleeping in a stranger's bed._

No matter how hard he tried to sleep, there was no way to keep his eyes shut. _Another day had passed, he couldn't keep on not sleeping._

As if his body could read his mind, his legs moved steadily towards the living room couch, repeating the same chain of actions he operated a day ago.

_It was another concession made, but one that would at least keep him warm and snug for a night._

Last night, he lifted her up from the kitchen floor to the couch; now he was bringing her back to his bed, with a smirk that nearly went unnoticed in the dark.

_The game could always wait until tomorrow._


	11. Chapter 11

**Ch. 11**

Hot water kept running over her wrinkled finger tips. Very soon, Cristina Yang would transfigure into a dried prune. As in the past few nights, the concept of time was lost in the overpowering embrace of the steam in the shower room.

The moment she turned off the tap, cold air rushed in and made her shiver. Looking at the blue scrubs lying on the wooden bench, Cristina couldn't help but question the need to wash herself from head to toe. _Why bother if her daily destination was always the dusty couch in Burke's room?_.

Nobody told her to stay in that room. In fact, nobody allowed it. But there she was, night after night.

Habits were easy to form, difficult to kick.

The couch clearly had registered the shape of Cristina's body, just as she had become accustomed to the hollowness in her relationship with Burke.

_How naïve it was to think that they would be fine again after the second surgery. They were not fine. This was not fine._ Besides, fine was mediocre in disguise. Cristina was not a fan of mediocrity.

Perfection was what she desired. Burke was perfect. Having a relationship with him was perfect. But this overly high standard of perfection was wearing them out.

_Nobody was ever perfect. Sooner or later, they had to embrace the imperfections in life._

Walking towards Burke's bed on tiptoe, Cristina observed the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest. It didn't matter whether he was only pretending to be asleep. All she wanted was to have a closer look at the big boy, whose juvenile behavior appalled and amused her at the same time.

Cristina could have brought the story to a perfect ending sooner by talking first, but she was still not ready to give in.

_So long as they didn't speak, it was just a game. They could throw the ball of silence back and forth._

Their current relationship was like a bike ride on a circus rope. As long as the rope was hanging in one piece, Cristina would rather take the risk up there than jumping down to face that whole can of worms crawling on the ground.

Tucking the blanket under his chin, Cristina placed her hand on top of his before tiptoing back to the couch.

Another round of staring game was about to begin. It would be yet another sleepless night, but the room always felt warmer when two souls were breathing in the same air.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Her hand was light and tiny, but it was as firm as the paper weight on his desk. Had he been a man of less self-control, Burke would have sprung his hand to pull her down to his bed.

The hospital bed was small and hard, but it was becoming Burke's favorite place. It gave the best vantage point for him to play the staring game with Cristina every night, after the termination of her footsteps announced her arrival to the couch. 

Every playground had its own rules. The one Burke and Cristina abided by was bizarre in anbody's eyes.

Every night, they stared at one another. Sometimes there was a smirk on their face, but they never allowed one single syllable to slip out of their mouth.

_Nobody knew who was winning, but truly it was the process that mattered more than anything._

And then she would fall asleep. Burke always made sure she was the first to fall asleep, so that he could get off his bed, kneel down by the couch, and fork through her messy curls.

_The sprightly fragrance was better than any cure for insomnia._ Burke was glad that she brought her shower gel to the hospital.

The urge to talk was like a flicker of light surrounded by complete darkness. Burke could almost hear himself chuckle whenever he thought about how childish they had been.

_But it wasn't only just a game._ It was a time-out zone, the penalty box where acting silly and messing around was possible without any hard and hostile feelings evoked. 

Burke wanted things to be fine, but if he was to speak first, he didn't know what should be said. The fact that Cristina reported him to the Chief still lingered on his mind, but it had become hazy to him whether it was an apology he wanted or something more than that.

When Addison said it's pathetic, Burke was apt to defend himself and claimed that he didn't do anything wrong. As he was stroking Cristina's hair, however, he began to lick his lip and ponder--_ Why didn't Cristina seem to think she had done something wrong? Why was she always so self-righteous?_

Perhaps Burke let Cristina rule his world. He allowed it to happen and never stopped her, until it was too late. Perhaps there really was a reason for her to think she was right.

_The heart might be willing, but the tongue was weak. _They owed each other an apology, but before they knew how to do it without re-opening fatal wounds, the strange silence marred by foolishness was the most delicate layer of ice the couple could skate on.

Of course, it wouldn't be much longer before winter was over and the ocean warmed up again.


	12. Chapter 12

With the dark circles under her eyes still clearly visible, the darkness in Cristina's heart was gradually receding, so much so that when she didn't think about it, it seemed like it was time for _the return of the queen of sarcasm_.

Watching Meredith entered the locker room in a hurry, Cristina couldn't help but smiled curiously at her. _It took Cristina minutes to decide whether the nose strap mark on Meredith's face or the hello kitty band-aid on her forehead a few months ago was more unbelievable._

After tying her hair into a ponytail, Cristina's hand instinctively reached into her messy locker. When she finally found what she wanted, an inexplicable sense of panic erupted.

_The watched had stopped._

It didn't look like an expensive watch; the leather strap even appeared a little cheap. But to Cristina, it had been one of the most dependable companions she's had. Messy as she might be, Cristina always made sure the battery was replaced every year.

_Must be an omen. The last time her watch stopped, something bad happened._ Cristina stared at it for a good while before slipping it into her pocket.

Leaning on the nurse station counter like three teenage girls who were skipping school, the interns were observing Thatcher Grey's every move.

It was a wonder how a man who was stammering and spilling coffee all over the place would attract so much attention. It was an even bigger wonder when Meredith kept rejecting him as her father.

Flipping her watch between her fingers, something inside Cristina continued to bother her, as if there was a lump in her throat. At the same time, she couldn't resist the urge to tease her best friend. _After all, what was so bad about having a father to make fun of?_

Just when she thought she had successfully curbed the listlessness that was slowly creeping up, Cristina's brows tightened when Meredith blurted out the most accurate description about her _relationship without words_.

_It wasn't a personal attack, but emptiness rushed into Cristina's heart at a rate faster than her morning coffee going down her stomach._

Keeping her sarcasm in conversation was not difficult, but Cristina knew perfectly well that sooner or later, she would lose the battle against that funny feeling of soreness in her nose.

Flipping her watch up and down again, Cristina walked in the direction of Burke's room. When she was about three inches away from the door, she changed her mind and left.

It was a warm day, but Cristina felt like she's walking on a frozen pond bare feet. If she didn't try to mind her steps, she might easily slip.

_Embarrassment was the last thing she wanted. Before the ice broke, she would not speak._

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Although never a popular athlete, Burke remembered being followed around by female students in high school. Stalkers always amused him, but the randomness in Cristina was the most fascinating of all.

Watching Cristina's figure quickly vanishing into the corridor, Burke couldn't understand why she was here that early in the morning, so unlike her normal stalking schedule.

_Was there something she wanted to tell him? Was she finally ready to talk?_

Clearing his throat, he thanked the nurse for bringing him breakfast, pushing any thoughts about Cristina aside for the moment.

When his fork landed on the pancake, it created a trench.

_Who would know that a man who valued breakfast time that much would end up nipping through stale pancakes?_ Just like the oxygen he was inhaling, certain things were always taken for granted.

When he was a kid, his Mama would make the best pancake; when he was at home, he made the best pancake. Burke used to have absolute sovereignty over those yellow flour patches, but on that very day when Cristina tore down the boundary, things were never the same again.

_He could have asked her to stay with him through breakfast._ Burke put down his fork and looked intently at the door, until nurse Tyler entered to hand him the daily paper.

Putting on his glasses, Burke allowed his eyes to wander aimlessly on the paper.

Despite his curiosity, Tyler dared not look at what Burke was reading. When he finally learned from the corner of his eyes that the page was upside down, the nurse started to consider whether he should put that down on Burke's chart.

Tension was building up in the room, even though the two individuals were half-strangers who had neither grudge nor alliance between them.

_The entire hospital already knew; but they wanted to know even more._

Just when Burke wanted to loosen his grip on the daily paper, a voice from the door stopped him from letting go.

_All morning he was thinking about her. Yet, when she was there, he couldn't think._

Ignoring Cristina's presence was not an easy skill to acquire. When she started talking about Mr. O'Malley, Burke couldn't control the prancing of his heart any longer.

Taking his glasses off, Burke was startled by the look on Cristina's face more than the quiver in her voice.

Her resolve of not talking to him but to talk through the nurse was remarkable. Burke would have praised her on her perseverance had she been there for a lighter subject. But it was O'Malley's dad, not anyone else. That alone depressed the mood of the room into a shade of blue.

If Cristina was there accompanied only by her old stubborn self, Burke might have built up his defense as quickly as he could to fend her off.

When her head dropped with her voice and Tyler teased her by pointing out the blatant truth that Burke was awake, the feeling of being a protector of the weak suddenly rose to the surface in Burke's head.

_Cristina wasn't weak. She's supposed to be able to take care of herself._ Yet, every part of her seemed to be screaming at him for help at that very second.

The pain leaking through her icy face was too much even for two people to bear. It was so atypical of her that the two men in the room remained speechless long after she was gone.

As part of Cristina was melting, so was Burke.  



	13. Chapter 13

For at least two thirds of the day, her eyes were open, but Cristina could hardly tell if she was awake.

There she was, standing at the door of Burke's room again, without turning away.

Cristina tried to feel her own heartbeat and maybe pinch the back of her waist to see if she had just been hypnotized. Her facial muscle was as heavy as her legs. When words finally flew out from her mouth, they immediately scattered in the air.

_She was a surgeon, someone who ought to be used to death and dying—Failing to save, breaking the news, facing the blame, learning to empathize, getting over the denial, rebuilding the confidence._

When she was assigned to talk to the mother and daughter about organ donation, she flipped out; when Nurse Fallon died, she was frantic; when Burke was shot, she was frozen.

This time it wasn't her patient, it wasn't someone who's always on her mind; it wasn't her own father. Yet, an immeasurable amount of dread was contaminating every word she uttered, every thought in her head.

_Was she asking for too much when she came into Burke's room looking for hope?_

It was a room of silence. Cristina knew better not to look past Nurse Tyler. Another expressionless face would only weigh her down more. Swiftly she fled the scene.

Lying in the on-call room with her hands behind her head, Cristina was mesmerized by the watermarks and stains on the ceiling.

_It must have been spotless when the hospital was built. Then one tiny patch of gray formed here and another watermark formed there. It was no longer pristine; it was an eye-sore. Years passed and people stopped caring about it. One day, when someone looked up again, the separate marks had secretly blended into one terrain._

The heart might have hardened. It was never immaculately white again, but the uniformity in the grayish hue was so natural that almost nobody remembered it was once white.

_It was just a matter of time. The question was, how much longer?_

It certainly didn't take long for Burke to decelerate that tiny motor that was speeding inside her chest. Or perhaps, she wasn't paying attention all these time and when she was finally lying down on her own, the cool breeze from the air conditioning system made her realize how she couldn't sleep alone again.

Her hands were becoming numb as she made another heavy sigh. Cristina had not only lost her edge, she was all strung out on him.

_Burke was still at the hospital, alive and breathing._ But that wasn't good enough. She wanted to know more. She wanted him to tell her how he was doing, because she didn't want to ask.

_The last time she asked about her father was the day her watch stopped. People whom she cared about always walked out on her._

The muscles around Cristina's eyes tingled as Meredith continued her rant about her father. George was going to lose his father while the two of them were lying in the on-call room whining.

_How ungrateful they all were, not doing anything to mend their ties when they still had a chance?_

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-  
_People often look for hope at the wrong place._

Burke was glad O'Malley was confiding in him once more. He had failed as a mentor, and this time he didn't want to disappoint.

_The trouble with reality was that second chances were rare._

Steering his gaze up and down the chart, Burke's shoulders stiffened as he spelled out the truth. O'Malley's dad was not going to live.

_As surgeon, they were taught to believe in science. Nobody taught them who they could turn to, when science wasn't enough._

His heart ached when Burke saw the blow on his intern's face. Burke was compelled to take off his glasses and grimaced.

_Medicine and reason could only do so much, the rest was up to the power above._

It wasn't the right time to think about his relationship with Cristina, but it was becoming clear to Burke that everything might have just been part of a bigger plan.

_If he was able to tell George how to lay his burden in God's hand, why couldn't he humbly accept what had happened to him as well?_

Shock swept through his body as George asked if people could come back from a trauma as big as his dad's.

_Burke took pride in his spirituality. Yet, here he was, being the biggest liar to himself._

He had been holding a grudge, because he couldn't believe a good man like himself would have to go through something that bad.

_How could he have said there was no blame there? How could he preach something that he didn't put into practice?_

Along with his sincere prayer for George's family, Burke was praying for a heart to forgive.

_The idea of blame and forgiveness had been in his head like a cat chasing its own tail. It had been following him for so many days that it was becoming old and repetitive._

When Cristina entered with his food tray, Burke's eyebrows lifted and his lips curled up.

It was the little push he needed, it felt like the right time. But when she put up her smug half-smile, the child in him once again got the better of him. Feelings of frustration were soaring as Cristina maneuvered the tray in the air.

_Why did she have to mess up his plans every single time? How could he talk about reconciliation with her when contempt was all over her face?_

Cristina had pushed his buttons, and now it was his turn.  



	14. Chapter 14

It wouldn't be called a surprise if everything worked as planned, but the twist and turns were like a bucket of cold water thrown at Cristina's face.

Stealing Burke's tray and bringing it to him, Cristina thought he would finally break the awful spell of silence. There was huge expectation on her part as she walked in with a smirk.

_She swore there was a smile on Burke's face. Why did he have to hold it back? If he wanted to be the leader, why couldn't he just say something?_

Swinging the tray in every direction, Cristina was hoping Burke would take the bait or at least reach out to her.

_She missed his touch, even if it's for a brief second._

When she saw him pressed the button for the nurse, the rouge of confidence left Cristina's cheeks.

_He was cheating. What was wrong with him to bring a stranger into their tug of war? Weren't there already enough gossip about their silence? Couldn't he just be nicer to her and be a man?_

Trying hard to defend the tray and herself, Cristina finally gave in. The nurse was only doing her job. She too should go and do something more constructive. People were dying at the hospital. Rather than giving in or mopping around Burke's room, she could at least go and clear off some names on the board.

The word _fine_ rolled out of her tongue like an unprocessed rock.

_How could things be fine when someone was dying? How could it be fine when those who were alive were not talking?_

Biting the inside of her lower lip and holding her fury inside, Cristina stormed out of the room.

_She's had enough of it. Why did she have to be rejected every time she wanted to know the answer?_

Her temperature was rising until her eyes met with the O'Malleys near the ICU. Cristina loosely wrapped her fingers around the railing on the wall and let them walk past her.

_Was it better to watch one's old man wither and seal his late hour with hugs, or was it better for him to disappear without saying goodbye?_

As her body drew closer to the wall, her front pocket hit the railing and gave off a subtle clatter. It was her watched that had stopped, the one reminding her that life was short.

Clearing her throat, Cristina wanted to talk to George. She wanted to go in and thank Mr. O'Malley for holding her hand and restoring part of her inner strength during this period of turmoil.

But before the first syllable elapsed, Cristina swallowed it under the command of the unforgiving eyes gleaming her way.

_Meredith provided her a shoulder, but it was George's father who reminded her she was still worthy of trust and respect after everything that had happened, everything she had done._

Gripping her watch tightly in her pocket until her knuckles almost hurt, Cristina shut her eyes.

_Not many people in her life had made her feel like a worthy person; and whoever did that eventually went away._

Floating around the hospital fetching labs for Bailey and others, Cristina felt like a sheep that had lost her master.

When the sun began its journey home, Cristina was drawn to the empty seat by Burke's bedside.

_Cristina hated the fact that she caved in every night, but there was nowhere to go._  
-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

There were never a couple of many words, but Burke became acutely aware that they couldn't be stalled at this stage forever. Since her departure from his room early in the afternoon, Burke had been longing for her return. When the chair beside him was finally filled by the petite figure again, a gentle ripple rose from the center of his heart.

_Maybe this was a good time; Cristina was not going anywhere._

Reading the paper with one arm behind his head, Burke was searching for the best phrase to elicit a conversation. When Cristina began rattling through his chart without even looking at him, Burke realized she too was becoming impatient.

Staring deeply into Cristina did not soften her frown. Through the defensive weariness on her face, Burke saw her yearning to open up.

_Perhaps, she too was trying very hard._

The silence was finally broken, only, it wasn't Cristina. Derek Sheppard always appeared at the most inconvenient times.

The only decent question Burke had in mind was about George's father. The answer was expected but that didn't make the task of forcing a composed nod any easier. The sentiments inside Burke were about to cross the threshold. Intuitively, he turned to Cristina, hoping to share the sorrow with her and nobody else.

It scared him to see the grief-stricken expression worn by Cristina. The last time Burke recalled seeing her in that state was when Nurse Fallon died.

Examining her by moving his eyes up and down Cristina's delicate features, Burke feared that any word would break her into a million pieces.

_She wasn't supposed to be the one who needed consolation. It was beyond Burke's comprehension why Cristina was so shaken by the loss._

The room was suddenly overtaken by grief as the bad news continued to loom.

Whether he liked it or not, Burke had to restore the balance. Instead of waving her closer to his bed, Burke chose words over action this time. By announcing the good news that there were no more tremors, Burke was hoping to lighten the atmosphere.

The look of relief was immediately shared by everyone in the room, although on Cristina's face it didn't last for more than half a second. Glancing at her covertly, Burke wished he could decipher what was behind those tightly closed lips.

Burke trusted she would open up in front of him once Sheppard was gone. He was ready to be there for Cristina, despite everything she did. To his dismay, there was no hug, no tears, not even a squeeze of his hand or a brush over his face before Cristina went out of sight.

_Why did she have to walk away? Couldn't she tell that he too was mourning?_

If shutting him out of her world was what Cristina wanted, Burke would stop trying.  



	15. Chapter 15

Not only was she walking against the nasty wind, Cristina was also going against her normal self. For someone who used to shy away from death, she was facing it head-on, taking the first step, being the only one among other interns waiting outside Mr. O'Malley's room to look for George.

The alley way was dark and cold, reflecting the demon inside Cristina whenever she thought about the loss of her own father. Shifting back and forth to stay warm, Cristina took it upon herself to talk to George, even if it wouldn't lighten the load on either of them.

Sharing that intimate part of personal history to another living soul was quite a novel experience for her, something she never thought she would be capable of doing before she came to Seattle Grace, before she met Burke and the other interns.

_She had wanted to spill it all day long and she's glad that finally she found an outlet, although not the perfect one._

When the phrase _my dad_ actually crossed her lips, the world around Cristina blacked out for a second. Whenever she thought about the day she heard about her father's death, the feeling of emptiness would invade every inch of her body.

Sticking her fingers around the watch that she had put back onto her wrist, Cristina's throat tightened as her puppy-eyed friend continued to stare at her.  
Seattle wasn't raining that night, but the two people on the alley way were experiencing a deafening downpour from within.

The threat of death drew them apart, but the presence of death brought them back together. It was a strange friendship, one that never felt as close as it did this very night, one that might still be distant the day after.

Looking at the watch that might never work again, Cristina thought she saw the reassuring smile of her father engraved on it. This was a watch that grew up with her, one which had its leather strap changed multiple times already.

_Certain things had changed, others stayed the same. That didn't mean it wasn't time to put behind what had passed and delve into the present._

Crossing her arms tightly across her chest, Cristina removed herself from the alley way and hurried back into the hospital. It was not that time of the year when Seattle was freezing cold, yet it took Cristina two cups of espresso from the vending machine before she stopped shivering.

_If George knew the story, Burke also ought to know, for she couldn't bear to lose another person, whom she had grown to feel attached to._

It always took her longer than anyone to do what was expected, but tonight she could hardly wait to rush into Burke's room to celebrate the mere fact that both of them were alive; that both of them had the opportunity to move ahead.

_How would she have imagined that she would be shunned?_  
-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

When light seeped through the half-opened door, Burke knew Cristina had entered his room. What he didn't know was how she had the guts to do that, after walking out of that door several times that day, undermining their relationship further each time.

He could have shut his eyes and pretended to be asleep. Instead, he could not stop himself from giving her a cold stare from afar.

The tiny figure seemed to be shaking a little in front of where the couch was supposed to be, but it was too far for Burke to read her face.

_Either she explained to him what was going on, or she could not stay._

It was a very domineering and merciless attitude that Burke never wanted to carry, but he couldn't bear to sleep in the same room with her tonight. Cristina had confused him left and right so many times that he was not ready to let her in again.

As their eyes were more adjusted to darkness, Burke was astonished by the absence of frustration or contempt on Cristina's face. What Burke had in mind was that Cristina would walk away. Instead, she surprised him by making determined steps towards him.

_The tear shimmering down was like the Polaris in the dark quiet sky._

When Burke asked Tyler to remove the couch and the chairs from his room, he intended to make it look like a note of dismissal from his space, not an invitation to the bed.

_How silly of him to believe such a maneuver would deter his girlfriend from throwing herself on him?_

As Cristina continued to cling onto the tip of his blanket and weep, a range of feelings fired at Burke.

_All he wanted was an answer. Cristina hadn't solved the mystery of why she told on him, and now she was crying without allowing him to know why she ran away._

Burke didn't know why he was feeling guilty, but his hands began to make gentle strokes on Cristina's back, which soon turned into a lasting hug.

_One word or two would suffice. If only Cristina could say something and make him know that she's alright._

Sitting up, Burke massaged the back of her hair through the forest of curly hair as he too began to tremble. Scenes from their past were spiraling up in his head. _How many times had he made Cristina cry? What had his Mama told him about never making a woman cry?_

As Cristina began to wipe her face with her wrist, Burke could see past the sadness in her eyes, carefully hidden behind a translucent wall of a glass castle. His desire to be the knight to break through and get rid of the pain for her was tremendous.

_A woman's tears were one of men's biggest enemies. When tears fell, some labeled the turbulence of emotions as anger._

To Burke, it was an enormous fear, the fear that he was inadequate; incapable of protecting his vulnerable treasure, unable to stop her from getting hurt. It was so intense that it soon evolved into anger towards the self.

_But really it was fear, and he was desperate to have his effort acknowledged, to have his inner beast soothed._

The longing was mutual as crests began to form on the sheets. Their bodies required no further command from their owners, their hearts no longer beat in disharmony, their fingers closely knitted together. His lips were exploring the familiar territory, the mountains, the valleys and plains.

_Whether he liked it or not, their relationship had been characterized by a uniquely primal force since the beginning._

There was no word, no moaning. It was like a silent movie, with a sequence of actions so sophisticated that a standard super 8mm reel could hardly capture.

_No matter how big a rift they might have created between them, there was always something to glue them together, even if it didn't last forever._  



	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: Originally posted on MTC. I just never got the time to upload them here... So MTCers, this is nothing new.  
**

Day versus night. Those were supposed to be opposing constructs. There's no doubt about that, unless one was in the Northern latitude during a certain time of the year, when the sun never left.

_Somehow, Cristina wished they could be one. A day without night would not be whole; without Burke her night would not be complete._

It had been a week since Burke went home, a week since Cristina could curl up beside him and relearn the meaning of the word _sleep_.

Night after night, they staged their most private ceremony of love. Whoever was living next door must have been disappointed, for the rupture of laughter and fiery little screams that used to accompany the melodic movement of the wall had been muffled.

Without any word to distract them, their action was ever more ferocious. Whether it was the tongue, the lips, the fingers or the top of the nose, something was always crawling, dancing, and sprinting.

Until the quickened motion suddenly came to a halt, the burning desire became a more enduring shimmer in the dark.

The chill of her silky-smooth skin descending on his bare chest was always light at the beginning. It almost felt like a pang of naughty hesitance, which only made him yearn for more.

It wasn't clear how they always ended up in each other's arms every night, and how the heat climbed a new height each time they were pressed into each other.

Behind their shut eyelids, they saw a self that was shinier than anything—a self made up of two interconnected hearts. There was something so sacred, so precious that Cristina dared not open her eyes.

_If only the night was never over._

The trouble was that whenever daylight conquered the night, they would resume their daytime role as antagonists, almost loveless.

Silence had been a shield, a weapon, a game. It was the emptiest substance on earth that could fill up the space more rapidly than anything. It was like entering a house gagging because of a distinguishable odor. The longer they were in the house, the less noticeable it became. Soon, nobody cared to get rid of it.

_As long as they were still living, eating, working and making love together, why did they have to talk?_

But there were things that actions could not explain, things that had to be pinned down by words. Because when they weren't properly addressed, they would only come back later to haunt them.

Sitting at the countertop, Cristina could feel her stomach mumble as the knives and forks at the table were dancing on the plates. The purple on Burke and the tablecloth was nauseating, like afterimages one saw after staring into the beaming sun for too long.

_Why did they have to play cool when others were here? Why couldn't they just be that satisfied silent couple who were hungry for each other?_

Not only were day and night facing a huge divide, so too were their public and private lives.


End file.
